


Persona Non Grata

by storiesfortravellers



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Anonymity, Community: kink_bingo, Intimacy, M/M, Prostitution, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-09 10:09:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesfortravellers/pseuds/storiesfortravellers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For the anonymity square for kinkbingo.</p></blockquote>





	Persona Non Grata

G had never told anyone about his hobby.

On weekends, when there wasn’t a case or a crisis, when having nothing to chase and no one to take down got too much under his skin (when the past came crawling up into his brain and set to roost), he would pose as trade. He would stand around on the corner downtown with the other boys looking for a john, wearing skintight jeans and a small blue T-shirt, and while he wasn’t the youngest by any means, he must have looked either pretty or depraved enough that he got picked by someone every night he tried to. 

The first part was like an undercover op – act like this was his life, act like he just wanted enough cash to party for the night, act like he was actually wary of the bigger guys who wanted the best locations on the sidewalks. 

The next part wasn’t an act. 

Sucking them off, telling them to pull over into the nearest alley so he could bend over, hands on a dirty brick wall, letting them fuck him until they were spent, telling them to leave him there and go home, refusing to look at them. Some of the more principled ones tossed some cash at him to keep their end of the deal. Most didn’t; G didn’t care.

This wasn’t something he shared at the morning meeting.

So he had to look twice when he saw a car window roll down to reveal Sam. Gesturing at him to come over to the car.

“Get in,” Sam said, tone firm. He sounded… like a john. 

Maybe he thought that G really was undercover. 

G got in the car and Sam drove away. G saw Sam’s hand tighten on the steering wheel, but Sam kept his eyes on the road, never looking at G.

Finally, Sam said, “What’s your name today?”

There was a hook in his voice, a tension, and G wasn’t sure if Sam were really asking what name he went by as trade or if…

If Sam were really asking his name. 

If Sam were pretending to be a john.

G stared at him until Sam finally looked back, and G could see the answer in Sam’s eyes.

It was both. Sam was going to ride the line between real and pretend until G broke and revealed something he didn’t want to. 

Sam really was good at interrogation.

“I said, what name do you go by?” Just a hint of threat in the voice.

“Don’t have one,” G said, plenty of attitude in his voice. If Sam could ride that line, then G could too. 

“What do you do?” Sam said, raised eyebrow, predatory tone just edging out the concern.

“Almost everything,” G answered, daring Sam to ask if that were really true. “Why, did you have something special in mind?”

Sam broke character for just a moment, a half smirk at G’s cheekiness. But then they arrived at their destination and G didn’t have a ready comeback.

This wasn’t a good area of town to have a motel.

Which was precisely why johns would sometimes bring G here when they didn’t want to risk public sex.

G was silent as Sam checked in and led them to their room. He was half hard just from the tension between them, from the fact that Sam was doing what he was doing. 

G could read Sam like a book. He knew that Sam was probably worried about him, probably pissed at him too for endangering himself. Probably had some very Sam like thoughts about why G ‘needed’ to do this to himself. 

G also knew that Sam, despite his own wishes, was turned on as fuck by seeing G in these clothes, by getting to pick G out of a crowd and take him somewhere where he can have G all to himself.

This wasn’t their first time. It wasn’t a regular thing either, but a couple of times after a mission they just let the adrenaline take over and they fucked, standing up, on a desk, wherever. Fast, athletic, more a sport than a union. 

A few other times, when one of them was damn close to breaking, it was a salve, a lifeboat, a way of holding on to this world, fingers digging into the other man’s back, keeping the other man from fracturing into pieces. 

But this, tonight, was something new.

“Get on the bed,” Sam said, and there was a question there, to see how much G was willing to let Sam take the lead when they weren’t backing away from death or despair.

G sat on the bed. Without asking, he took off his shirt. Then he looked up at Sam with a smirk that was very, very clearly a dare.

Sam took him up on it.

And then.

Kiss. Lips, tongue, bite.

Hand on the jaw, light caress.

Belt buckles loose, clanging, clothing rushed off.

Mouths on shoulders, hands gripping hips.

Fingers pressing in, slick with lube, opening up with groans of pleasure.

Need. 

Heat.

Familiar.

But then.

G on his stomach, faced pressed into the bed, Sam’s hands holding his arms, his neck. 

“Sam?”

“You wanted it this way, right? Faceless?”

G paused. If this were anyone but Sam, he would embrace this. But there were very few men who could keep G down in a hold for real, and Sam was one of them. 

On the other hand, who did he trust more than Sam?

“Yes,” G said, voice muffled by the pressure against the sheets.

“Don’t say my name again,” Sam said as he entered, and G tensed with the breach despite himself.

It was fast but not rough. 

G saw nothing but his own motion against the white sheet beneath him, the occasional drop of sweat falling on it. And Sam wasn’t saying anything. G imagined it was some john, some jerk who didn’t give a shit about him that he’d never have to see again, and it was easier, it was smoother, and G finished quickly when Sam let go of his arms and worked G’s dick. Sam finished fast too. 

Before Sam let G turn over, while he was still a voice without a face, Sam said, “It’s not every day I fuck a man I don’t know.”

G could read the questions there. 

_Who the hell are you, G? What else don’t I know?_

Maybe Sam wanted reassurances. Or maybe, possibly, Sam really wanted the truth. 

Either way, G wasn’t selling it.

“Don’t worry,” G said, “You get used to it.”

 

(end)

**Author's Note:**

> For the anonymity square for kinkbingo.


End file.
